Deep Water
by kremlinmirrors
Summary: The beginning of history...an Abhorsen in the making. When a village is attacked, one girl makes it to an island in the middle of a river, before a waterfall. Sound familiar?
1. Dead Village

Deep Water

By otakuprincess

I'm afraid. I fear for my people, souls without a place in this world. Forever damned, they do not even have the privilege of being called "living". Empty shells, they no longer serve themselves. No, they serve him. Constantly building and breaking, halting their tasks only when the sun rises from her bedchamber. As soon as she veils her face once more, they return. It is like this every night. The faces of my brothers, sisters, friends, neighbors, all rotting. Dead flesh hanging from their bones like streamers from a mantelpiece. I try not to look closely as the maggots swarm through every crevice, claiming the bodies as their own.

I think I am all that is left of my village, unless one escaped far away from this horrid place. I was lucky to be bathing when the attack came. Funny that I, who was breaking village laws by bathing in the morning, should be the only one saved. I suppose Mother can't punish me this time. As soon as the attack began, I made my way down the stream into deeper water. It keeps back the Dead, you see. The stream ran into the river and from there, I washed up on a small island. I must be lucky – had the rapids pulled me any farther to the left, I would have been tossed like a grain of sand over the rapidly approaching waterfall.

The island isn't much. There are a few fruit trees from which I can gather plums and apples. I survive. Granted, it has only been five days. The Dead will surely be here soon; already they are throwing boulders into the churning waters. The bridge isn't much, but it will be enough. I have built a small shelter here, and stored fruit for my journey tomorrow. If I hope to survive the trek to the next town, I will have to return to my village one last time to gather supplies.

Quiet. I can hear Him, even now, miles away from the terror that was my home. I think...yes. He is calling more of them to him. Other helpless ones. I hope he is not there when I return tomorrow. I have not the strength to fight an enemy so greater skilled than I. He deals in Death, and I only in physical battle. Who is a swordswoman to confront a Reaper?

I can see his very image in my mind. A man, taller than most. Muscular and strong. Red hair, the color of a flaming sunset. Deep brown eyes. Those eyes that looked down upon me in battle in my dreams. Every night, eyes that haunted my sleep. Once, I even felt his rough hands slide down my neck, chilling...repulsive. I woke up then, thankfully alone except for the wail of a small child at the moment of destruction.

Please tell me that I do not dream of the future. I hope, for all our sakes, that I do not. I do not wish to confront the necromancer, no matter how much the Charter demands it. The Charter...it flows through my veins, weaker than ever. He was some power over it, I think. All its magic has been called forth to Him. I would, I could pull it back. But her would know I am here. Even the strong pull of the river would not stop his crossing.

As I create a weak triangle of protection, I think of tomorrow. Drawing the North Mark, I wonder if this will be my last night before I feel the pull of another river, one much stronger than Life. If that is my fate, I will pass the nine gates without regret. But that is tomorrow.


	2. The Mystery Unfolds

Deep Water

By Otakuprincess

Chapter 2

I awoke this morning to a high-pitched scream coming from the other side of the churning river. As I bolted upright, searching for the source of the sound, I saw a young woman stumbling across rocks and boulders beside the river. Tears streamed down her face as she ran, a small bundle concealed within her grasp. I could feel the chill of Death as I realized from what she ran.

I prayed for her, but it was too late. Out of the trees, I saw the red-haired menace appear. I jumped behind a small bush to hide. As the necromancer swiftly caught up with the woman and her child, I couldn't help but let out a small whimper. The necromancer started for a moment, staring straight into my hiding place. His eyes pierced my sanctuary like stone daggers. In that split second, the woman tossed the bundle in her arms into the river. I jumped from my hiding place, running to the side of the island in hopes of catching the swaddled lump before it was tossed over the falls. Lucky, I grasped the edge of the blanket as the necromancer scooped up the wailing woman. I gathered the bundle into my arms, a look of hate following the necromancer as he looked at me once more and disappeared into the darkness.

Noticing that the sun had barely risen over the horizon, I quickly retreated to the center of the island. The dead would soon return, continuing their attempt across the deadly waters. Taking a knee, I examined the small bundle I had rescued from the rapids. As I unfolded the blanket, I was shocked to see an odd group of trinkets. There were nine small pipes, neatly lined in a box of mahogany. A dagger there was also, Charter marks inscribed in its hilt. A picture of a beautiful woman was singed slightly on one corner, and a book lay beneath all of these things. It had a weathered leather cover, but would not open.

Looking back now, I'm surprised that I did not feel fear. I knew, of course, that the pipes must be similar to the bells of a necromancer. The same dark power must reside within them. And yet there were nine, one more than needed or known to the Old Kingdom. The picture was yet another mystery, one that did not seem important. The book was the most worrisome of all, as it was clearly bound by some unknown power.

As I sat, looking at these items, I heard a voice call out to me from the shore.

"Mara madonna, why do you hide? Do you not wish to be with your family? They are all here. Why won't you join them?"

mara bitter or sorrowful, here used both as a name and description.

There he was. Staring out at me from the shoreline, tempting me with his lies. His brilliant hair danced in the sunlight. After all he had done, he _dared_ to tempt me with his deception.

"I'm not an idiot. I know what you've done," I said, standing up to face him. Many meters separated us, but I could still feel him laughing at me.

"What if I agree not to hurt you? Would that make a good deal, little one? There. I promise not to hurt you if you come back."

I glared out at him. "Never. I will never return." I turned away, back to my wavering triangle of protection and fruit trees. The necromancer looked out at me, contemplating for a few moments, before turning back to my dead village. It looked as if I would have to hope for the best. I wouldn't be gathering supplies before leaving.


	3. Bridge Over Troubled Water

Deep Water

**Deep Water**

By Otakuprincess

Intro: Thank you to everyone who R/R this story in the past! I'm hoping to rewrite a few of my pieces here and certainly write more. For starters, I decided to add a bit of meat to this chapter, hopefully making it a more satisfying read. New chapter to come as soon as I can find my notes on the other computer.

**Chapter 3**

Hands grabbed at me in the night. Dead hands pulling, ripping, clutching at my clothes, my skin, my hair. I spasmed beneath them, hoping to tear them away but instead only tearing rotting flesh. Screams in the night echoed around me like a shield of terror. Fire, reaching up into the sky in a plume of death, choked me.

I awoke, screaming in the night, bolting up to make sure I was still alone. There was nothing new within my triangle of protection, the one that clung on for dear life, its glow as faint as the glow of fire in the forest. As the moon shone down upon the island, I realized that I could see shadows moving steadily along the shoreline. The rush of the waterfall was interrupted by the sound of boulders being tossed into the rapids.

I only had a few hours.

Then they would come, repulsive flesh stumbling aimlessly over the awkward bridge. A few would die, but in the end, I would be trapped. One insignificant death on a small island in the middle of the Old Kingdom. No one would ever know I had died, no one would ever weep over my open tomb. My body, defiled, a host for another of His servants. If I was lucky, the Death would carry me swiftly past the ninth gate.

But he had the bells of a necromancer.

I remembered the pipes, and carefully took the last one out of its case. It felt awkward and unwilling, so I returned it to the pouch and took the next one. The metal was freezing in my hand, struggling to abandon its shape and flow over my skin like liquid, drowning me in darkness. If I had the strength, I could be past the seventh gate before He found my icy body.

At least then my soul would be free of bondage.

But I was a child, afraid and alone, and I was not strong enough. I replaced the pipe and tucked the pouch away. At this point, I would rather trust in hope than my own strength, my will to die.

I stayed up for a while, legs curled into my frail body. I was weak. Barely able to fend for myself, I couldn't save my family. At this point, I couldn't save myself. I tried to drown out the sound of the Dead construction, listening only to the peaceful melody of the river, staring up to the expanse of the night sky. I wondered whether anyone would ever know we were gone, my village. Would travelers visit next summer to find empty land, decrepit houses? Would they figure out what had happened? Or would life go on as always, people and places forgotten in the bustle of humanity…

It was this thought that remained in my head as I fell asleep. The night proved to be a long one, my diamond of protection flickering with every interruption in the water flow. Time passed though, slowly but surely and just as the sun rose over my new world, the dead completed their bridge. They walked forward, unseeing, lead only by my human stench. Some of them were already starting to burn. I grabbed my things, slipping the rope around my waist and around the pipecase and the book. I made sure to tuck my dagger within reach.

I stared out across the river, wondering where I should go, what I should do. I could try and swim across to the other side, away from the Dead. I could try. That or I could choose to perish, to fling myself over the treacherous waterfall and embrace death. But then again, hadn't I tried that last night? I couldn't give up yet. I stood there, feeling small and very afraid, trying to forge a plan.

And then he came. Tall and proud, he strode across the bridge, knocking a few wailing dead into the river. My eyes widened as I realized that it was far, _far_ too late for a plan.

Though the island was quite small, I used the space to get myself as far away as I could. It didn't feel like long before I ran out of room to run. There was no longer time to swim across the river. Taking the dagger and the cold pipe from my waist, I prepared to defend myself.

"I wouldn't blow into that if I were you," the necromancer warned. 'Unless you want to hand yourself over to me, and based on your latest actions, I very much doubt that's the case."

"Why? Why shouldn't I!?" I demanded. "I'm far strong enough to send myself farther than you can reach."

"You severely underestimate my powers, little sparrow. If you send yourself into death, I will make it my top priority to find you and bring you back. Then a Dead Hand is the only thing left in your future." He grinned. "I would much prefer to have you living."

I stared at him, not daring to bet my life on a possibility. I put the pipe away.

"Very good. Now, I think after a most uncomfortable night here, you deserve a bit of sleep."

The last thing I heard was a sweet ringing sound, and the scent of lilies.


End file.
